


Mojave Blues

by Nuke



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: 2 emotionally stunted dorks trying to have an honest conversation, F/M, Revy says 'fuck' a time or two do I need to put an archive warning for that uhoh - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuke/pseuds/Nuke
Summary: A night in the desert with a few wanderers. A young man and woman who are better with actions try to have some words with each other.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Mojave Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before I played New Vegas but I still like it so now you all have to look at it.

It was a cold night in the Mojave. In the small adopted cabin was just the three of them, as it usually was, plus Rex. The cyberdog was asleep near the mostly broken, but somehow usable fireplace.

The little cabin had its main room, with a pair of offshoots the new residents hesitantly called "bedrooms". When it got too late they would scatter, two of them arguing over one room and the couch. The lone doctor would retire to the other room, counting the minutes until the squabble subsided.

Arcade was used to being alone, so he didn't mind. He took to the old armchair they'd found and dragged in, settling by the fire with an old science magazine he'd read a half dozen times already. It was something to pass the time, at least. Peering over his glasses, he looked across the way to the tattered green couch that had been there since they found the cabin.

The cushions were sunken down from a century of wear. Boone paid the discomfort no mind as he examined his rifle, cleaning it even though it hadn't been used that day. They all stayed silent, but that night it was hardest for him as he used all his strength to keep his voice trapped in his lungs. He stared at the gun too hard, too intently, looking for details he knew weren't there. Finally he blinked and, feeling Arcade's glare, his eyes were pushed to the far corner by the door.

There sat someone who could be considered their leader, by process of elimination. She didn't have a particular knack for it, but the others had simply started following her after a while. So, that's what she was. The only sound beyond the crackling fire was of her aggressively sharpening her knife in the dim light. Though of course, it was sharp enough.

"Revy," Arcade sighed. He was the only one allowed to use her full name, but opted not to. "You'll break that thing if you oversharpen it."

It wasn't  _her_ knife, the one she always carried. That one was always perfectly sharp, and never abused like the one Arcade referred to. Revy gritted her teeth and pressed down on it harder with the sharpening stone. She abruptly stood and, still silent, flung it in the direction of the couch.

It landed between Boone's feet. His eyes had returned to his rifle and he didn't look up.

The commotion wrenched Arcade from his chair and he slammed the magazine on a nearby end table. "For  _god's_ sake, you two!" His voice echoed throughout the sparse room and caught Rex's attention. "I've had about enough of this. What is going  _on?"_

Revy stood rigid, hands clenched into fists, her only visible eye glaring at the inattentive Boone. Half of her face was hidden by a tangled mess of sandy hair. "Tell Boone he can have the fucking bedroom if he wants to start another fight about it."

Arcade removed his glasses with one hand and started rubbing his temple with the other. "I swear, I'm getting chronic migraines from you two."

"Revy's loud," Boone finally said, in a mumble, not looking up. "She gives everyone a headache."

"You want me to be loud?!" She yelled, stomping her foot. "I'll be  _real_ fuckin' loud if you want!"

Rex whined and backed up, ears down.

Upsetting the dog seemed to be a breaking point. Without saying anything else Revy turned and left in a huff, the door almost flying off its hinges. She slammed it shut behind her.

Arcade watched his magazine fall to the floor. With another deep sigh he returned his glasses to his face and sank into the chair. His eyes settled on Boone, who still hadn't moved or even looked up again. "Would you go get her?" He asked in a demanding, exhausted tone. It wasn't a request.

Immediately he stood, shouldering his rifle and heading to the door. To Arcade's relief, he left the cabin much more quietly.

"What am I going to do with them?" Arcade asked, addressing the now-calm Rex. "20-somethings. Such a hassle."

Rex yawned in agreement.

Even in the dark, Revy knew her way around, and she knew where she was going. The ridge wasn't far. Unfortunately, she also knew she was being followed. She tried to quicken her steps, but her anger kept them heavy and loud. A blast of wind blew more dust and dirt into her hair. She kept her jaw tight and moved on, hearing the footsteps behind her try to match her pace.

Finally she got to the ridge. She scrambled up the couple of boulders that would block the way of anyone even a little less athletic than her. Right as she was about to climb to the top, she turned around and offered a hand downward.

Sitting cross-legged near the edge of the cliff, Revy glared at the sky. She tried her hardest to keep an angry face at the glimmering sea of stars, but soon it faded. She sighed.

Boone sat beside her, copying her posture. Despite the dark, he was still wearing his sunglasses.

"What do you  _want?"_ Revy snapped, still looking at the sky.

"Arcade told me to follow you."

"You do everything he says?"   
"No."

She knew he wasn't much for conversation, but it annoyed her even more than usual. She pawed around the dirt with her left hand until she found a rock, then chucked it over the cliff. In the distance, it made a quiet sound as it tumbled. Her eyes fell from the sky and rested on her feet. "So you're just gonna sit there and say nothing."

"I've been talking."

Her rage boiled. Someone like him... How could he just  _do_ something like that, she wondered, then sit there and be so sarcastic and shitty about it? She was used to people being open, people  _talking_ about things and being honest with her. She would watch her parents have a conversation and be in awe of it: How they took each others' feelings into consideration, the tender tones of voice as they worked through something difficult. Even when she had her own exploding rage fits, even when it was only her uncle Preston at home to deal with it, he'd speak to her with such respect. He'd tell her though he didn't understand her anger, he was there to listen.

But this? This was a brick wall. She shouted at it, screamed at it, threw knives at it... and all she ever got in return was a shrug and three words of totally blowing her off. Ever since she was a kid, people treated her well and talked to her like she was an adult. Now, she really  _was_ one. Had been one for a while. And she'd found her first roadblock.

"But I would've come out even if he didn't tell me to." ...There,  _that_ was something. Finally, all that frustration bundled up under a red hat had given her  _something_ to work with.

"...Yeah?" Despite herself, her whole demeanor softened. Despite how  _he_ was, he had that effect on her. Any more than his usual couple of standoffish words went straight to her core. "You don't talk to me for three days," She stretched her legs out, leaning back on her arms. "Then you piss me off enough so that I come out here."

"Wanted privacy." He said, stoic as ever.

"This  _enough_ for ya?" She gestured widely to the empty valley below them. "There might be a pack of night stalkers listening. Want me to go scream at them?"

"I-"

"Y'know, cause I'm so  _damn loud."_ She said it like she was angry, but she wasn't. Her anger felt like it was a mile away already. Now she was smiling, and couldn't help but direct it at him.

"You  _are_ loud." He smiled, too, though most of it was in his eyes, which were completely hidden in the dark. "And you  _do_ give people headaches."

It wasn't like she could deny it.

"But," Boone continued, "Maybe we ought to give Arcade a break. Work this thing out."

A "thing" was what he called it. It stole Revy's smile and she pouted. " _You_ started it."

He wanted to respond with a sarcastic, "I did?", but he couldn't turn it around that easily. He really  _did_ start it, with what he did.

Neither of them had talked about it. Revy couldn't help but wonder if Boone regretted it; though it wasn't a  _huge_ deal, the way he acted made her feel like he never wanted to see her again.

Did she feel the same? She couldn't be sure. She knew what the  _feeling_ was; it surrounded her life back in the Commonwealth. She was almost drowned in it, sometimes. Everyone saw the way her parents would look at each other, and heard the way they talked to each other. They didn't have to blatantly say those three words out loud, in front of everyone, but their behavior made it clear. Kisses on the forehead were as common as a cloud passing overhead.

But  _his_ behavior...  _Her_ behavior...

"Sorry I threw a knife at you," She huddled back up into herself and buried her head in her knees.

Boone shrugged. "I knew you weren't gonna hit me."

"Yeah?" She peeked her visible eye out. "How's that?"

"You have terrible aim."

She scowled and hid her face again. "So," she mumbled. "I'm loud. I give people headaches. I can't aim and I'm a pain in the ass."

"I didn't say that last one."

"Okay,  _you're_ a pain in the ass." She clarified, smiling now. "But at least  _I_ can admit that I want you around."

Boone leaned back, swiping off his glasses to look at the stars. "You always throw knives at people you like?"

"I said I was sorry." Her smile widened. "But no. Usually I don't throw 'em at anyone."

_"Usually?"_ There was a lightness to his voice she hadn't heard in a while. "When was the last time you did?"

Smile still getting bigger, she thought back a long time. "This was over ten years ago. My good knife."

"Shit," He sat up to attention. "I need to hear this."

"You know the Brotherhood of Steel."

"Oh, god. Revy-"

"First time I met Elder Maxson."

"I don't like where this is going at all."

Grinning at this point, Revy straightened her back and sat normally. She was staring out into the distance, reminiscing so happily she almost didn't recognize the emotion. "My mom was so proud to introduce me to him. Shit was pretty cooled off at that point. Nobody started problems. It was before their ship crashed and everything, though."

"Still a crazy story." Boone could still barely believe it, but then, looking at Revy, he could. He could absolutely believe she had been raised by a woman who survived the crash of the Prydwen.

"She said something like, 'Reveille, this is Arthur Maxson', and I don't remember what else. I saw fuckin' red and just chucked my knife at him. Hit him right in the chest."

Stifling a laugh, he tried to be serious. "You didn't kill him, though, did you?"

"God, no!" Revy, on the other hand, didn't hide her cackle. "He wears bulletproof everything. Think he can handle a knife thrown by a tiny kid."

He wanted to say something, but he waited and thought for a moment about what he knew about Revy. She was a crazy danger of a woman who grew up borderline feral and never quite grew out of it. Then here she was, out of nowhere, on the other side of what used to be a country. The two met in a clash of fire, but somehow got along. He liked her spirit and, despite what he said, he liked how loud she was. She didn't take anybody's shit.

And she put up with him, he reminded himself. She put up with his moods and his sulking but always managed to drag him out of it. He remembered the first time he saw her climb on the back of a Deathclaw and slit its throat with her knife. The  _first_ time. There'd been several more.

He remembered how he smiled at that, and even laughed. It had been his first real laugh in a long, long time. Her usually-dirty hair was even worse, soaked in blood like the rest of her, but she grinned through it all and said, "Maybe we can sell its claws!"

He laughed again just thinking about it.

Revy was tugging at her matted hair when she heard it. She looked at him. "What's funny? My hair?"

"Just you," He leaned forward but kept his head turned to her. When they first met, a long time ago, he thought they had the same eye color. But no, he realized, that afternoon when she killed the Deathclaw. In the sun, he could see her eyes were a lot more yellow than his green. ...Well, the one. Her left eye was usually hidden under her hair, but she never explained why.

"Yeah?" She went back to her hair. She always liked to hope her freckles would hide any flushing of her cheeks, but it never did. Luckily, it was dark. "I'm funny? Is that why you kissed me?"

That made him flinch, and he sat up completely straight. His brow furrowed and he had to take another second to think. 

She waited, patient but annoyed.

"I guess." He finally answered. "Among other things."

"Alright," Revy stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him up. She didn't have to pull hard. "Well, why don't you tell me all about it on our walk back?"

He followed after her, his hand held captive.

Getting down off the ridge was a lot easier, but still an obstacle. Their hands separated for the brief moment they had to focus.

When they hit the ground, Boone reached for her.

She flashed him a grin, but said nothing as they started walking again. With her free hand she fussed with her hair until it was completely out of her face.

About a quarter of the way back to the cabin, Boone took a deep breath, then let it out.

She looked up at him, both eyes wide.

"...Y'know, I think it started when you killed that Deathclaw..."

It was a warm night in the Mojave. In a small, abandoned-looking cabin, a worn-out old couch spent its first night of many without an occupant.

Arcade fell asleep easily, and never heard any arguing.


End file.
